


false faces

by CapnShellhead



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Civil War (Marvel), Clones, Jealousy, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnShellhead/pseuds/CapnShellhead
Summary: When Captain America went on national television and joined the crowd in support of the Superhuman Registration Act, a lot of people had questions.Namely Steve Rogers, who was wondering who the hell was running around wearing his face.





	false faces

**Author's Note:**

> This stemmed from an idea I had where I took the (very very wrong) concept of Tony cloning Thor during Civil War and imagined if he'd cloned Steve instead. Still wrong, of course, but I was fascinated by the idea of Tony being drawn to the clone but keeping his distance in refusing to call it "Steve" because it's not Steve. 
> 
> I kind of imagine how different the war would be if this clone went on pretending as Steve while Steve was underground with the other anti-SHRA crowd. How they'd try to take it down and how Steve would feel if he discovered what Tony was doing with the clone in his alone time.
> 
> So, it's a darker Tony. It's certainly not healthy.

Working mall security certainly hadn’t been Steve’s dream job.

All of the long, mindless cycles around the halls, to the west side, up the stairs and back to the east. Seeing the same scenery over and over again, in daytime and at night. The same white walls and storefronts, with just the repetitive sound of his footsteps on the tile floors. After hours, it left him way too much time to think about what was waiting for him when his shift was over.

A crowded underground bunker with a small bedroom the size of a broom closet. Not the worst place he’d ever stayed but, certainly not the best. With the water stains on the ceiling, the holes in the plaster and the bed much too small to sleep comfortably on. The thin walls where he could hear Peter arguing with MJ. Luke arguing with Jessica. Danny arguing with Misty. Frank going over his strategies that Steve would doubtlessly argue against the next day. A room that paled in comparison to his previous one.

The tower hadn’t been the same as the mansion; it could never be. But it had been warm and welcoming, filled with laughter and joy. Peter’s motor mouth commentary, Logan’s grumbling and Drew’s quiet laughter as she sat at the bar chatting away with Carol on the phone. And Tony—

Tony.

Steve had spent many a morning watching Tony smile at him over a cup of coffee. Tony trying valiantly to avoid launching into a lecture every time Peter asked him for advice. Tony pretending, he wasn’t growing a little misty eyed over The Notebook when Jan brought the DVD over. Tony softly snoring in Steve’s ear when he fell asleep on the jet. Tony’s breath misting over his lips, his eyes softly falling shut as he leaned in. Tony reaching out for his hand, his eyes soft as he begged Steve to compromise –

Steve came to a stop, staring at the wide expanse of the dark halls before him, the lifeless mannequins staring down at him from the wide windows.

It was too hard to keep his mind clear when he was pacing these empty halls. He found himself thinking back to happier times, rose colored glasses making it easier to lose sight of what was important. He couldn’t go back, only forward. This was his life now; these empty halls, these quiet nights, the ache in his feet and the nametag that spelled a name of a man he didn’t recognize.

Someone lonely. Someone lost. Someone who knew what it was to finally lose a war. To lose another friend.

He started up again, his throat tight, shoulders stiff, eyes focused straight ahead. The last hallway on his circuit came into view as Artie stepped in front of him. He held out a fresh cup of coffee with a tired smile. “Time to clock out, Hendrick. See you tomorrow.”

Steve offered a sluggish wave and headed for the locker room.

+

It was dark out when Steve returned to the bunker.

The others were usually asleep by the time he returned from work. Well, save Jess if Dani was feeling particularly fussy that night. He pocketed his keys and pushed the door open, dragging his feet over the threshold. He closed the door behind himself and turned around.

A heavy stone slammed into his face.

His shoulder slammed into the wall with a loud thud. Covering his face, he reached out with his free hand and caught a meaty fist in his palm. The power behind it wasn’t enough to be Luke’s but it was large enough that it certainly wasn’t Peter’s or Jessica’s. Kicking out, he tried to adjust his tired eyes to the dark shadows of the entryway.

He recognized the scent of his assailant and he prayed he had enough time to try to reason with them. Steve could survive a lot of things but he didn’t want to put his money on surviving claws to the gut.

“Logan!” he shouted, ducking down as Logan swung for him again. “What the hell is going on?”

A growl and a fist slammed into his stomach. Once again, fists in place of claws. He must have his doubts. “Who are you?”

Baffled, Steve rolled out of the way, racing towards the hall where he fumbled along the walls for the light switch. “It’s me! Rogers!” The room exploded in light, a momentary distraction before Logan struck again, a vision twist to his mouth. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Who are you?” He charged forward, snarling, “I won’t ask again!”

“It’s me! What is this about?”

Two strong arms locked Steve’s wrists behind his back, holding him tight. Too thick to be Peter’s. Luke.  

“Answer the man’s question,” Luke growled.

“I just did. Now, will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Jessica emerged from the back cautiously, Danny followed moments later in an oversized t-shirt, Dani in his arms. Matt and Hercules stood off to the corner, watching warily. Peter moved in closer, holding out a tablet. At Luke’s silence and Logan’s glare, he made a face and tapped at the screen, holding it up for Steve to see.

It was footage of a press conference. Stark stood in the center of the room in armor, his arm outstretched as he beckoned someone forward. The video must’ve been several months old because –

“I’d like to welcome the newest supporter for the Superhuman Registration Act. My old pal, Captain America.”

The crowd erupted in chaos on screen as Steve watched dumbly, growing lax in Luke’s grip as he watched himself walk across the stage in full uniform. He waved, smiling as he reached out and took Tony’s hand in a firm handshake. He stood there beneath Tony’s arm, his shield gleaming in the sunlight.

“Iron Man and I have come to a compromise. I’ve agreed to co-lead the New York Initiative alongside Captain Marvel. In exchange, Mr. Stark will continue working with me to make the SHRA a fairer and more equal legislation. Thank you.”

Steve’s heart beat fast, breath quickening, eyes caught on Tony’s hand wrapped around his – around Captain America’s wrist. Who was that man?

Logan jut a finger at the tablet, demanding, “IS this you?”

Steve’s mouth grew dry, glued to the screen as Cap pulled off his helmet and revealed the same face Steve saw every day in the mirror. His hair the same shade of blond, his eyes the same shade of blue, the same full lips spread in a smile as he followed Tony down the steps and backstage.

“Is this you?” Logan demanded once more, eyes glinting and dangerous.

“No,” Steve replied, his heart pounding painfully. “It’s not.”

“Really?” Peter asked, face calming.

“You’re just gonna take his word for it?” Logan asked.

“It’s not me,” Steve insisted, pulling at Luke’s hold. “I was at work all day. A 12-hour shift. You saw me leave.”

“We saw you leave but we don’t know where you went,” Jessica chimed in, stepping forward. “We couldn’t find your uniform.”

At first, Steve was irritated at the admission that they’d gone through his things. But these were trying times. He supposed, if he’d been in their position, he would’ve done the same. Clearing his throat, he held his head up high. “I’m wearing it.” Luke’s arms tightened and Steve grimaced “I wear it under my clothes. Force of habit,” he bit out.

“You could have done the conference and gone to work—” Hercules began and Steve sighed.

“Check with the mall, you’ll see I clocked in about an hour before eleven. It wasn’t me.” He stood up straighter, his words firm. “But you can be damn sure I’m going to find out who it was.”

+

It didn’t take long for Frank to track them down.

He’d been watching Tony from a distance since before the war. Apparently, he’d never really trusted Stark to begin with. He left Steve with an address and pointedly didn’t ask what Steve intended to do with it. To be perfectly honest, Steve didn’t know.

He had his theories: that Tony had created some sort of image projection of an LMD. That it wasn’t enough for him to turn his back on everything they’d believed in – he’d turned his back on his own principles. Tony, who knew firsthand what a violation it was to have his tech, his _image_ , denigrated by one of his enemies. Tony who knew damn well how Steve felt about Captain America’ image being corrupted and used to further an agenda.

Even when faced with clear and convincing evidence, a part of Steve found it hard to believe.

Then he found the motel.

Tucked just outside of the city in the middle of a strip mall that appeared a few days from condemnation. It was dark out, the air muggy and uncomfortably warm. Steve crept closer to the room number Frank had slipped him. It was a corner room on the ground floor. The window was closed, but the curtains were open.

Steve – “Captain America” stood in the center, his broad shoulders curved as he peered down at Tony on the bed. Had Tony always been that small in comparison to him? They were the same height but now, Tony looked a lot thinner, leaner than he’d been before. He looked as though Steve could wrap both hands around his waist and they’d nearly touch.

Slipping in closer, Steve could hear voices.

“… sure you’re okay?” Tony asked, reaching up and tracing his fingers over Cap’s stripes. “You took a knife to the side back there.”

Steve’s temper flared, jaw tensing as he watched. That look in Tony’s eyes, the tone of his voice – it almost seemed like he cared.

Cap touched Tony’s face and nodded, “I’m fine, sweetheart.” Steve’s stomach twisted into knots. “It just grazed me.” He stepped back, smiling as Tony stood up. His hands landed on Tony’s hips as he leaned in.

Their lips touched.

Steve’s breath caught, his chest painfully tight. Cap palmed Tony’s cheek, tongue slipped into Tony’s mouth knowingly, his hand gripped in Tony’s shirt. Fast than Steve could follow, he tore at the silk, the fabric coming apart in scraps. His hands worked Tony’s belt as he turned them, marching Tony backwards towards the center of the room. Steve’s hand tightened into a fist.

He should leave.

A hand yanked at the back of Tony’s pants as Cap shoved him over a nearby table. Gasping, Tony scrambled to get his hands beneath himself, shaking where he gripped the edge. Steve tensed, wary. He waited, watching closely for some sign that tony didn’t wat this. It wouldn’t be the first time one of his creations had turned on its creator.

Curling over him, Cap gripped his ass in his gloved hands, spreading him easily. Tony arched, pushing into the grip needfully. Reaching into his belt, he pulled out a small tube of lube. Stiffening, Steve inadvertently moved closer, his eyes tracing hungrily over miles of smooth, tan skin. Cap tugged off a glove with his teeth, tossing it aside as he slicked his fingers. Steve’s eyes cut to Tony’s face, watching with bated breath as Tony’s eyes snapped shut and he moaned softly, pushing back to urge Cap further.

Steve knew the moment the finger slipped inside. Kiss bitten fell open in a moan, Tony’s face growing lax as he gave himself up willingly. Cap’s free hand came down to hold him still as his thumb dipped inside knowingly. They’d done this before. This machine – this _thing_ had been inside Tony like this before. It knew when Tony was ready to take another finger, how to keep Tony needy and wanting, behaving long enough for Cap to slip another finger inside.

Steve should go. Tony clearly wanted this. Whatever conversation, argument, _fight_ they were going to have wouldn’t occur tonight, that’s for damn sure. Steve should go.

He shouldn’t stand here and watch Cap tug his pants down and stoke his cock, his free hand planted on Tony’s back as he lined himself up. Steve’s eyes were drawn to Tony’s face, the little line between his brows as he waited impatiently, spreading his thighs further. The moment Cap slipped inside, Tony’s eyes snapped open.

Locking onto Steve’s just outside the window.

Steve’s heart leapt in his throat, freezing in place. His cock throbbed painfully hard in his jeans.

Blinking dazedly, Tony held his gaze even as his body rocked backwards, Cap seating him fully. His lip caught between his teeth, watching Steve as Cap snapped his hips forward, pushing in deep. Tony let out shuddering moans, the slap of skin against skin as Cap used him for his own pleasure. Whatever this thing was, he could feel desire, he could be rough and greedy with it. He still hadn’t noticed Steve standing outside.

Tony watched, almost curiously, as Steve didn’t make a single move to stop it or leave. His hands clenched into fists at his side, resolutely resisting the urge to slip a hand inside his pants. He could only imagine the sight of his – Cap’s thick cock splitting Tony open. The tight sucking heat wrapped around his length as he pushed inside of him and pumped him full. The needy sounds that were all for him. The easy way Tony simply arched and obeyed. The way he trusted him.

Earning that breathy moan as Tony stiffened, hands tightening around the edge of the table as he let out a broken, “Steve,” and came.  Shuddering, desperate gaze locked on Steve’s as he pushed back into Cap’s grip as he worked him roughly through it.

Steve’s cock pulsed hard, spilling messily into his jeans, knees weak. Stomach twisting as he clenched his eyes shut and listened to the slap of skin against skin sounding louder as Cap fucked him needfully and filled him to the brim. Tony groaned, panting, cheek pressed against the table as Cap drained himself.

Sighing, Tony stood on shaky legs, accepting the kiss to the corner of his mouth. Cap smiled, sated and happy, patting Tony’s stomach playfully as he slipped out.

Backing away from the table, he asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Tony asked, touching the drying release on his stomach absently. His eyes cut to Steve’s before he averted them.

“You called me ‘Steve’,” he replied, heading towards the bathroom. “You never call me that.”

Tony’s eyes cut to Steve’s, his mouth a thin line. Steve’s heart skipped a beat, eyes wide as Tony moved over to the window.  

Reaching up, he gripped the curtains and pulled them shut.

 


End file.
